


Hunger

by Viquis



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Hicsqueak, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viquis/pseuds/Viquis
Summary: There is a thing about growing up and not being able to distinguish your own feelings: the hope that, eventually, it will all come together. And when it does, it can only be described as an overwhelming experience of feeling everything crash, and finally understanding. The confusion, the loss and the emptiness - even as you overflow with newly discovered emotions.In her case, there are a few things that revolve around this situation: Hecate never knew how tuned down her feelings were, probably an unconscious way to shield herself from the pain of feeling as if she was never enough. She was raised believing that her father loved her, assuming that his strictness, critical behavior and the way he was always unhappy with her efforts to improve were his ways of showing it, for he must have been only trying to help her achieve her fully potential. She was wrong.Well... It is a songfic based on Florence + the Machine's song "Hunger".Let's see if you guys like it...





	Hunger

There is a thing about growing up and not being able to distinguish your own feelings: the hope that, eventually, it will all come together. And when it does, it can only be described as an overwhelming experience of feeling everything crash, and finally understanding. The confusion, the loss and the emptiness - even as you overflow with newly discovered emotions.  


In her case, there are a few things that revolve around this situation: Hecate never knew how tuned down her feelings were, probably an unconscious way to shield herself from the pain of feeling as if she was never enough. She was raised believing that her father loved her, assuming that his strictness, critical behavior and the way he was always unhappy with her efforts to improve were his ways of showing it, for he must have been only trying to help her achieve her fully potential. She was wrong.  


Being raised by him, and afterwards the Mistresses that mirrored his behavior, only amplified her difficulty to understand herself and her feelings, for the witch believed those were the normal ways to show affection. The only experience with love in her childhood was rather complicated, as Hecate could barely remember her mother, only the feeling of long fingers trailing through her hair before bed still so vivid… Her mother’s death had almost been her breaking point, that moment where it all would be tuned up and she could feel. The loss, the love, the sadness… But before she had the chance to begin her mourning, her father had sat her down and as he paced the study, tumbler – half empty - in one hand and a golden pocket watch in the other, explained to her that it was her mother’s fault that she was now dead.  


\- She had been declining as a witch, losing her way in the craft. It wasn’t exactly an unforeseeable outcome, and it might have been the best one, which is why, Hecate, you should work twice as hard. You are powerful, but power demands control. It takes practice and time… - There was a loud bang in the door, the chatter outside seemed to blend and become one pitched noise. The woman who, a few seconds ago had been knocking now found herself inside the old study, magicking a few suitcases out of view. It all seemed to be so fast… - You have to be disciplined, I do not wish for you to have the same fallout as your mother. This is Mistress Harkness, she’ll be shaping you into a great witch.” – Her father then grabbed her hand with the hand that still held the precious watch, pulling her to a standing position.  


\- This is for the best Hecate. – She could barely remember anything else about that day, only his words burning in her head and the weight of the golden watch in her hand.  


>   
>  _At seventeen, I started to starve myself_  
>  I thought that love was a kind of emptiness  
>  And at least I understood then the hunger I felt  
>  And I didn't have to call it loneliness

Each year, she could feel her powers growing, her mistakes lessening. The way she wanted to feel proud because she was one of the youngest witches in class and one of the only ones to be able to perform such hard spells, but her father’s words were always whispering in her head “you should work twice as hard”. It was never enough.  


Friendless and mocked but talented, strong, powerful and controlled. Hecate Hardbroom. She was a witch to be feared. Ironically enough, she soon found her life entangled with the life of the pinkest and kindest witch she had ever met. Pippa Pentangle. And oh, how strange… Hecate could swear something was wrong with herself, her hands shaking every time the Mistresses assigned an activity to be done in pairs and the way the popular blonde denied every request of her friends, gathering her books and sitting beside Hecate. The way her heart seemed to beat faster and faster when the pink girl, so easily seemed to smile, laugh and touch. The way her body burned as the girl touched her arm or hugged her goodbye after class, with promises of coming around her room later, to study or maybe just talk. The way she, Hecate, wanted it, a friend, an companion, someone to tell all her fears and secrets. The way her heart warmed every time Pippa was able to understand her, without her needing to explain herself. Their friendship was Hecate’s most precious possession, and she knew that there was something different about her. The hunger she felt, wanting to absorb and absorb this… oh, if only she could understand this… feeling?  


And this is how it all went downhill. She found herself in the middle of the woods waiting for Pippa. She had earlier received a message on her maglet, telling her to meet in “their spot”. So there she was, waiting.  


Soon she was startled as she heard the noise of some bushes being shoved and saw as three young witches made their way towards Hecate. Her stomach flipped. Something was wrong.  


\- Well... Isn’t the little puppy such an obedient little thing? – laughed Edwina, a blonde witch that used to be Pippa’s friend.  


\- What do you want? – gritted Hecate, feeling the way her magic was almost imploding outside her body, clenching her fists as she tried to control her anger.  


\- Well girl, it’s time we have a little talk. We can’t have you dragging our dear Pippa down forever, can we? – stated Malicella, crossing her arms in front of her body.  


\- Yes… well, you see “hiccup” – mocked Edwina – We know you are in love with Pippa, but it is laughable that you would ever think you have a chance with a girl of her caliber. After all, you are just a friendless little pity project Pippa has… she could never love you back. You are not even worth of her friendship. Everybody knows your father was executed for doing black magic, so he didn’t have to raise you, oh and let’s not forget about the fact that your mother killed herself to be away from you. Nobody wants to be near you.  


\- Edwina! – said Rosalind, the third witch, her face starting to acquire a rather scarlet tone.  


\- Shut up Rosalind! This sorry excuse of a human has to hear it. We all know she is as evil as her dad! The sooner she leaves Pippa alone, less are the chances that anyone will ever remember they were friends, Pippa included. Who could ever miss you? You’ll only bring her down!  


Hecate could feel her chest burn. Could feel her magic, her eyes filling themselves with tears. She felt hurt, she felt angry, she felt confused, she felt her love for Pippa. She was feeling. It was overwhelming. And for a moment… She closed her eyes and it all turned black, trying to steady her breathing and control her anger, she opened her eyes, only to discover she had transferred herself.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed it, let me know so I can keep writing. Thanks!


End file.
